A Foxhole Thing
by Apocrypha Glibbe
Summary: Destiel one-shot. Set between 8x06 (Southern Comfort) and 8x07 (A Little Slice of Kevin), Sam and Dean stay up late, trying to be honest with one another for the first time in a long time. Destiel, Dean/Cas


Sam opened two more bottles and set one in front of Dean. "So I opened a vein and talked about Amelia. Do you want to tell me about Purgatory? Cas?"

Dean made a face and pushed back from the table. "It's going to be like that, huh? We're going to need something stronger than this piss water." He rummaged in his bag until he found a bottle of whiskey, and sat back down with two glasses.

"Good story, huh?"

"Oh yeah." He poured himself a shot and drank it quickly. "Fun fact: Cas and I, uh, we kind of had a foxhole thing."

To Dean's surprise, Sam neither laughed nor spat out his beer. "What happened?"

"We were drunk."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "In Purgatory. Try again."

"Well, I _felt_ drunk." Dean took another swallow. "Not quite as drunk as I am now, though. Shit."

"Better. Marginally."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, are you going to let me tell my freaking story or are you gonna bust my balls?"

"Please go on," Sam answered, tipping the bottle to his mouth. "I'm all ears."

"Right. So, Purgatory. And we were almost out, you know? Almost at the portal. We'd been walking and ganking monsters, and fighting, and walking. And then ganking some more monsters. And it was hot and it was freaking terrifying, but it was also pure and honest and nothing to think about. No time to think. Animal, in a good way. And Benny was a lump of creepy vamp soul under my skin at that point, and Cas…"

Sam made a point of studying the ingredients listed on his beer label while Dean poared more bourbon.

"Cas was everywhere, man. I couldn't cut off something's earlobe without Cas suddenly right there, his blade crashing into mine -"

"Like that's not a metaphor…" Sam mumbled.

"Dude. I'm telling you a thing, here. Cas was like a crazy person - crazier than normal, I mean - just swinging and spinning and taking out everything that came between us and that portal. And we were standing there, cutting down every foul, nasty creature to ever grow claws or suck blood and it was awesome. We were a machine, me and Cas, and we were going to chew our way through every last baddie this side of Hell. It was like that place knew we were going to make it out so it decided to throw everything it had at us. And it got dark. And we kept going. And it got darker and we were still standing and they kept coming and we took them down, all of them. Just me and Cas. And I was fucking drunk with it, you know? It was a rush and we were going home and I just…" A half-smile and the ghost of memory played across his face.

"Around dawn, they finally stopped coming. They just melted back into the darkness and Cas was screaming like a maniac, "Come on! Come and get us!" But they didn't come. And I looked at him and all I saw was blood and dirt - he was so freaking filthy, Sam, you would have laughed.

"But I looked and I saw this angel of ours, you know? This goddamned _angel_ that's had my back for years, who pulled me out of actual Hell, and who was fighting his way out of Purgatory with me. He had his stupid 'Angel For Hire' face on, where he's kind of clenching his jaw and his eyes are taking up half his damned face and he's got this beard, for fuck's sake. A beard. Cas. Castiel. And I'd just never seen anything more badass or terrifying or beautiful in my whole life. I know that sounds lame, but… I mean, he's an _angel_, Sam. And he was standing there, head to toe blood, in that coat, and looking at me like he would do all of it again, make every stupid decision, break every damned rule, rebel, kill, die, come back, all of it, all over again. For me. He was there, Sam, after everything. He was still right there. And-" Dean's voice broke and he dug his thumb into the corners of his eyes. He took a ragged breath.

"And I looked at him and I said his name. That's it. I said, 'Cas.' And he…" He put his glass down and looked at Sam, meeting his eyes and searching for some sign his brother understood.

"I said, 'Cas," like I've said a million times, and he came to me. He took, whatever, like three steps and he was right there, you know? And he put his hands on my face and I thought I was hurt or something, like maybe my arm got cut half off and I didn't realize it because of the adrenaline. He put his hands on my face and I thought he was going to do the whammy on me and try to put me back together but there was nothing wrong with me. He was just holding my face in his hands and freaking staring at me."

He was crying now, his voice full of broken bones and wonder.

"And Sam, I will flat-out deny it if you ever fucking bring it up again, but Cas just… He-"

"Cas kissed you."

Dean shook his head. "No. That doesn't cover it, Sammy. That doesn't come close. It was like that breath you take when you dream you're drowning and dying and you finally wake up? But better, too, because in a way it's like I've been holding my breath since I woke up in that coffin with no freaking idea why I was alive. Cas did that. Cas brought me back and he's been down here or he's been in heaven or he's been dicing around on angel business but he's been waiting for me to understand why he did it. He told me, back in that barn where he showed up with his feathers and his cheap suit, that I didn't believe I deserved to be saved. That I couldn't believe something good could happen to me. And he was right. I could always take every bad hand that came my way because damn right, that's what you do. You man up. That shit's what's for dinner. But I couldn't hold onto anything worth a damn. Not me. Not for me.

"But right then, in Purgatory, with this fallen angel trying to breathe through the back of my head, it could not have been any clearer. That was the good thing I had coming. Cas. He was the good thing I got to have, to keep, the reason I was back. Cas is the purpose God or whatever had for me. Right there. Cas and his beard and his bloody hands and every fucked-up thing he has ever done for me, and every risk and wrong turn I've taken lead right there. And I was ready, Sam. I could have stayed in Purgatory and fought with him at my side, or we could have come back and figured out what we were supposed to do with it. But what I ended up with was the one thing I have no clue how to handle and that's me here and him there. No amount of praying or killing or dying is going to make that right. I don't know what you do, Sam, when you figure out what you need to survive, why you need to survive, just to have it taken away."

There was nothing Sam could say or do for his brother. He could tell Dean that he understood, but the truth was that no matter how deep his own losses had cut, the two of them were on their own. They were lost in their own stories. So what he said was, "We should get some sleep." And what he did was toss the empties into the trash can by the door. And what he meant was "It's our job. It's the life. It's what we do. If there was any other way, we would have found it already."


End file.
